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These live performances
derive from the earlier years of Zino
Francescatti’s international fame, by
which time he was already in his early
middle age. His first recordings, which
were collated some years ago on Biddulph,
were made between 1922 and 1928 but
Francescatti, who had been born in 1902,
was still earning a living in Parisian
orchestras at the end of the nineteen-twenties.
His talent gradually won through and
he was to become one of the three leading
international French violinists of the
day – alongside the ageing but still
appreciated and continent-hopping Thibaud
and the comet that was Ginette Neveu
(both of whom of course were to perish
in air crashes during their travels).
The trio of concertos
that Music and Arts have collected are
from lacquer discs from various sources
(not noted in the documentation). A
warning alerts prospective purchasers
as to the sound problems one can expect
– clicks and distortion and limited
frequency response – but as I’ve commented
below this is really only of concern
in the Saint-Saëns, which, annoyingly,
also turns out to be the most comprehensively
attractive and successful performance.
Still, the other performances hardly
lack for refined lyricism and interest
and they can join Francescatti’s commercial
recordings with just pride. He set down
the Tchaikovsky twice in the studios,
both times in New York, the first with
Mitropoulos in 1954 (Columbia ML4965)
and then just over a decade later with
Thomas Schippers conducting (Columbia
ML6158). These were long admired recordings
but never quite challenged, in the case
of the Mitropoulos, such as Heifetz,
Milstein or Ricci, to cite just three
contemporary discs. With his conductor
Rodzinski, who was later to record the
Concerto with a very different player,
Erica Morini, we have an attractive,
elegant, digitally exceptional reading
that never quite sparks fires. It’s
a performance very much in the Francescatti
Tchaikovsky mould – articulation is
precise and notable, lyric phraseology
is sweetly elevated, he doesn’t use
much extra bow weight for strenuous
passagework and there is still intensity
but no steely drive such as Heifetz
imparts. The first movement shows him
abjuring the oratorical-protagonist
profile embodied by such magisterial
tonalists as Elman or the rather leonine
austerity of the early Milstein recording.
Instead the Frenchman is sympathetic,
tonally rich, but the reading is more
of a classicist one than a romantic.
The slow movement is not too slow thankfully,
albeit expectedly. His lyricism is unquestionable
here and in the finale, where there
is some percussion overload as there
had been muddy bass frequencies earlier,
Francescatti doesn’t dig into the string
aggressively. There is lyric generosity
here and no attempt to force the pace
(he actually takes an identical tempo
to Elman’s 1929 recording with Barbirolli).
In the end this is a satisfying rather
than an overwhelming performance but
still admirably played.
The centrepiece is
the Bruch. As with Tchaikovsky
so with Bruch; both conductors who recorded
with him in the former set down discs
with him in Bruch, Mitropoulos in 1952
(Columbia ML 4575) and Schippers in
1962 (ML 5751). Once more Francescatti
is marvellously himself in his refusal
to play to the hysterics’ gallery. His
opening statement is lyric but lacks
interiority, mystery. He holds back
from many portamenti and expressive
finger position changes but he does
intensify his vibrato during the first
movement and one can hear that occasionally
problematical wideness of its usage
that was characteristic of him. I tend
to find it most problematic in paragraphs
of romantic phrasing when the oscillating
vibrato can impart a slightly artificial
bulge to the emotive line. It’s not
overdone here but it is audible. There
is nevertheless a chasteness to his
phrasing that is admirable though of
course it’s not the ne plus ultra of
romantic violin playing, hardly the
most unbridled, voluptuous or emotively
dashing of playing. He is on fine form
though, no doubt about it, and remains
one of the most inspiringly consistent
of players even in literature that is
maybe more openly effusive than is ideal
for him.
And so to the compromised
sonics of the Saint-Saëns, very
much literature that one does associate
with him. If you have the Mitropoulos-led
1950 Columbia 78 set or its subsequent
incarnations on LP and CD (CBS, Philips,
Sony Classical, numerous Supraphons)
I doubt you will need this, fine though
it is as an interpretation. There’s
a Boulez-conducted LP of the Concerto
again from New York on Lyrinx but this
dates from late in Francescatti’s career
– 1975 – and it’s not one I’ve heard.
The sound derived from the lacquers
of this 1951 Strasbourg Festival performance
is muffled, constricted, and rather
unattractive. Maggi Payne must have
put in some very hard work to refine
the sound signal but even she can’t
work miracles. It’s by no means an impossible
listen but it can be a struggle and
Francescatti’s tone is rendered rather
cellistic by the constriction. That’s
a pity because he and Munch join in
a fine reading. The Andantino is the
highlight for me as it’s full of lyrical
ardour and taken at his walking pace
tempo. If ever the word refined means
anything it means something when you
hear his phrasing here – which is well
nigh perfect (it would be good for some
intelligent company to re-issue Henri
Merckel’s 78 recording of this work
with Coppola conducting to derive an
even better panoramic view of authentic
French playing of this work).
It’s good to have this
disc. It joins Bridge’s Francescatti
Library of Congress performances as
exemplars of how to promote live material.
These are in truth ancillaries to the
commercial discography but they reveal
Francescatti in all his affectionate
and generous lyricism, supported by
cast iron technique, for all that he
claimed not to practise too much. The
notes consist of a reprint of the Francescatti
chapter from the late Henry Roth’s Great
Violinists in Performance and cover
his life and career with his accustomed
authority and judgement.
Jonathan Woolf
ORTF/Charles Munch recorded at the 1951 Strasbourg
Festival 